


Life Moves On (AKA, FrankenPappy)

by Tricksterburd



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Death, Drowning, Halloween, Horror, Sad themes, Tags to be added if needed, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delilah was gone.  The robots he had been building were useless now. The five year old had the decency to look ashamed of himself.  Iris would never forgive him if she ever learned of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bernard

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with "Was That A Pun." I do not own Steam Powered Giraffe. This will be very sad.  
> Idea came from this image here: http://sergeantobliv.tumblr.com/post/31143378246/but-pappy-what-am-i

She was gone.  

Peter put down the umbrella, just inside the door.  The maids and man-servants came and went, one taking his coat, the other his hat, yet another drying off his shoes.  She was gone.

Not noticing the world around him Peter made his way to the workshop.  It was his instinct to go there, it was safe, it was home; it was where he thought the best.  It was his space.  Sitting at the bench at the table, Peter found himself starting at the copper face he had been working on.  He'd been there for hours, lost in his own world.

Delilah was gone.  The robots he had been building were useless now.  Before him on the table was a copper robot that was almost complete; only a core and a few tweaks needed and it would be powered online for the first time.  Hanging from the wall was a silver head with spine, all that Peter had managed to finish of his second robot.  And in the corner was a gold head, only half constructed.  

No point.  No point now.  

"Mister Walter?" A shy voice brought Peter from his staring contest with the copper face to his head maid.  "Would you like supper sir?"

"Yes, Ms. Tonia.  I would."  Peter rose, following her through the door.  Three steps into the hall, he paused and turned back.  Closing the door, Peter locked it behind him.  No point now.  No need for a workshop.

\-------------

"PAPPY!"  Peter turned as his name was called, instantly kneeling down with arms wide spread to catch the five year old.  The little boy with curly red hair bound up the hill and threw himself at his father, giggling up a storm with a handful of duck feathers.  His mother joined them, managing the slope with much more grace than her son.

"Rabbit!  How was your day at the pond?"

"Great Pappy!  Ma let me ffffffeed da ducks and sp-sp-splash in da wata and now we're gonna feed da w-w-w-wwabbits!"

Peter hugged his son close, lifting him on his hip as he stood up and kissed his wife Iris on the cheek.  

"And how about you darling?"

"You need to speak to your son about how to treat ducks."

"Oh?  _Bernard_ , what did you do?"

The five year old had the decency to look ashamed of himself.  

"Nufin Pappy.  I just ffffed da ducks."

"And how did you get those feathers?"  His mother asked.

"I uh.  I found 'em?"

"Found them where?"

"On.  Um.  On da d-d-dd-d-dducks."

"BERNARD!"  Pappy scolded, snatching at the boy's hand.  "You do **_not_** pull feathers off birds!  That is rude and painful!  How would you like it if they came over and pulled your hair out?"

Bernard began to cry.  That was certain death for Peter.  He never could say no to tears.

"I'm sorry Pappy!  But I llllliked da feathers and da'ducks didn' s-s-ssssseem ta mind at first an' Ma didn' say I c-c-c-couldn' an' an’ an'-"

"Alright alright.  Calm down Rabbit it's alright.  It's alright.  I'm sure you won't do it again, right?"  His son rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, nodding in pure remorse.  "Good.  Now have you fed the hutch today?"

Bernard shook his head in reply, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

"Alright.  Let's go feed the rabbits and then we'll head inside and get you and your Ma cleaned up for supper alright?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."  Iris kissed her son's head before giving Peter a look.  She knew what he was doing, and she very much did not approve.  Peter had been known to spoil his child rotten.  It was a wonder her son was as well behaved as he was.  Perhaps it was his mother's lower-class upbringing that helped her teach him manners.   Even if he didn't yet apply them to ducks.  

Iris headed back to the house letting father and son have their own time, while Peter carried Bernard to the large rabbit hutch a little ways up the hill's path.  Bernard had developed a fascination for the fuzzy creatures two years ago during a county fair.  Someone had let him pet   their blue ribbon English Spot and that had been the end of it.   Bernard had wanted a pet rabbit.  And, of course, Peter being Peter, couldn't say no while Iris wasn't there.  

Needless to say, his wife was very surprised when the two of them came home with  a brown French Lop all their own.  Bernard wouldn't let the poor thing go for more than an hour at a time each day, until finally Iris put her foot down and demanded the creature have a hutch _outside_.  Bernard had cried.  Peter had gotten him two more rabbits.

Earning his first born (and so far, only) son the nickname Rabbit.  The boy was obsessed.  Every day he had to go out and make sure they were okay.  He would often take them out and let them run around the soft grass of the hills behind Walter Manor, chasing them around until everyone was too tired to move much further.  The boy and his rabbits.   An odd story to say the least, but a cute one.  In the two years not a single day passed without Bernard visiting his beloved pets.  Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

\-------------

"Pappy, c-c-can we bring da wabbits in-inside?"

"No Bernard, the rabbits will be fine."

"But it's raining."

"Yes.  I know it doesn't happen often out here in San Diego but it does that from time to time."

"But da wabbits are g-g-gonna get sick."

"They are rabbits Rabbit.  Come away from the window."

"But dey're gonna get ssssssick!"

"Bernard!  The rabbits will be _fine_.  You are not going outside, they are not coming inside, and yes I am very sure that they will be okay.  They've been out there in the cold, remember?"

Bernard sighed heavily, stomping over to his father's armchair.  Iris smiled at him, reaching out to brush his curls out of his eyes from the couch.   The five year old crawled into her lap, curling up against her chest and pouting at the fire.

"Oh come now Rabbit. It's not that bad.  The rabbits will be alright, and you'll see them tomorrow.  It's raining so hard out there right now; you'll get sick yourself if you go.  And if you're sick you can't visit them.  And they'll be sad if you can't visit."  The child shrugged, not  yet willing to give in the fight.  Iris knew a lost cause when she saw one.  

"Mary, will you take Bernard to his room please?"

"Awww Maaaa!"

"Now now Rabbit.  It is past your bed time.  The sun will be setting soon and you know how foggy you are if you stay up late."

"But Ma!"

"Please Rabbit?  Darling?"

With a long suffering sigh and a short "okay" the child was picked up by the maid and carried to his room.  Iris chuckled and shook her head  after  them.

"He's your son alright.  Stubborn as a mule.  It wouldn't surprise me if I found him working long hours over a project when he gets older."

"He gets that from your side I assure you.  How many times did you find me and drag me away to remind me to eat?  Stubbornness does not come from me."

"And yet you'd fight me every step of the way.  Surely it must come from somewhere in that fuss."

The banter continued for a while, dwindling down into comfortable conversation before Iris rose from her couch, settling on Peter's lap with a sigh, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Peter."

"Mmm, yes darling?"

"I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"I'm pregnant."

Peter just stared at her.  His voice was quiet when he answered her.

"What?"

"We're going to have another child Peter."

"Another- another child?  We're going to have... IRIS!  This is wonderful news!  How long, how many months... how long have you known?"

"About three months now.  I was waiting for the right time to tell you."

"Three mon- four now!  I'm going to be a father in five months?!"

"You're already a father Peter."

Both of them laughed as Peter stood, keeping her tightly in his arms as he   danced about the sitting room in his joy.  Bernard was going to be an older brother now.  Peter and Iris were going to have a whole brood of children, a house full of family and life. That's when Mary came charging back into the room, frantic.  

"Mary?  What's the matter?"

"Master Bernard asked for a drink of water, and I went to fetch it.  When I came back he wasn't in his room!"

Peter laid Iris back on the couch, snapping directions as he stripped off his smoking jacket.

"Fetch me my boots, and a good raincoat.  I know exactly where that little tramp scampered off too."

"Peter?"

"He's at the rabbit hutch.  I should have taken him out to show him they were fine.  I'll bring him back Iris, it's alright.  Stay here where's it's war-"

He didn't get to finish calming his wife.  A sound from outside, deafening in its loudness, stopped them all in their tracks.  If it was loud enough to be heard from in the sitting room, with the kitchen between it and the back door...

Peter ran. It was all he knew to do at the time.  Coat and boots be damned, he had to see for himself.  The door was wrenched open, and Peter was out in the rain before anyone could stop him.

It was a flood.  A flash flood.  They happened, sometimes, after a long dry spell.  The ground couldn't handle so much water being dumped on it at one time and it would run off to the lowest point.  The rabbit hutch was in the middle of a hill.  Peter watched, horrified as he ran.  Trees from the top of the hill had been uprooted by a wave of water spilling from an outcrop of rocks that couldn't hold any more rain.  Bernard never had time to run.  And Peter could never dream of being fast enough.   Both watched in fright as the water launched itself at Bernard, and washed him away.

"BERNARD!"  Peter was running faster than he ever had before.  Tripping, slipping,   and trying to gain traction on the sopping ground with his bare feet.  Somewhere his slippers had been lost to the muck.  Somehow, Peter never was sure how, he made it in one piece to the lowest point of his estate.  He hadn't been taken by the water; he hadn't been swallowed by the ground.  But he made it to the duck pond, now overflowing with rain and debris, in time to watch the tiny white hand of his son slip below the muddy surface.  

Peter dove in head first, fighting the still pushing current of the water to get to where he had seen his boy.  The water was stirred up, silt and mud and leaves and sticks and pebbles everywhere, thick and dark.  He couldn't see.  He could barely move.  But he had to find him.  Peter rose to the surface, sucking in a deep lungful of air before diving below again, trying in vain to see him while feeling around with his fingers.

It took three trips to the bottom of the pond to find him.  Three.  Peter was a grown man, who had his whole life to learn how to hold his breath.  Three trips to get air and dive back into the water.  

Dragging Bernard to the bank Peter gasped from exhaustion and fear, trying to keep his heart from thumping out of his chest.  Both boys were soaked to the bone, both white as paper.  The difference was, only one was breathing.  

"Rabbit, Rabbit breathe."  Peter shook his son, tilting his head back and trying to force air into his lungs.  He shook him harder and harder, shouting at him to open his eyes, to say something, to move.  Fredrick was the servant that found them ten minutes later.  

Peter would not let go of Bernard.  Even when they were brought back to the house, even when the maids tried to pries the boy away, even when they were toweling him off.  Peter cradled his son to his chest, sobbing brokenly, still trying to shake him awake.  

\-------------

Peter   gazed at the rabbits in their cage.  Three rabbits.  One brown, one black, one white.  Rabbit's favorite pets.  His only pets, really.  Big French Lops with their long ears hanging down around their paws.  He had spent hours talking to them, petting them, taking care of them,   cuddling with them, letting them run about the grounds.  The weather was clear now, days after the freak flood.  And the rabbits had been safe, just as Peter had promised.  Dry, warm, comfortable, and alive.  

Iris has taken to bed since it happened.  She was heartbroken, mourning the loss of her oldest child, another growing within her.  Peter had taken to wandering, lost, on the grounds and in the manor.  The only room he had refused to go near was Rabbit's.  They had put him there, for now, until the weather could clear and arrangements could be made.  His son slept in his room, and would never wake.  

Peter pulled the door open, grabbing the brown lop by the ears and holding it high to his eyes.  These damned pets.  If Bernard hadn't been so set on seeing to them, if he hadn't been so devoted to them... once Peter had deemed himself lucky.  Most children would beg for animals and then forget them and leave their parents to taking care of the mutt of a dog.  But not Bernard.  No.  No, instead, Bernard Anthony Walter had taken such good care of his rabbits that he had _died_ for them.  

Peter flung the rabbit back in its hutch, where it cowered and hid, the others following suit.  Then he crumpled to the ground, a weeping mess.

It wasn't the rabbit's fault.  They were just animals that wanted to be taken care of.  It wasn't Iris' fault; she was a good mother and would be a great one again soon.  It wasn't Mary's fault, she had done as she was asked and more by alerting them to Bernard's disappearance.  It wasn't Peter's fault, he had tried his hardest to save him and survive it himself.  It wasn't Bernard's fault, they had taught him to care for his animals and that's what he was doing.  

It was just a freak thing.  No one was to blame.  But it still hurt.  It hurt so much.  And they had another child on the way now.  Another child... it would be wonderful, but it would never replace Bernard.  

Replace....

Peter stopped his tears, raising his eyes to the cloudless sky in wonder.    Replace.  No, no another child would never replace his son.  But, but perhaps.  

Bernard's room was NOT the only room Peter was avoiding, it turns out.  He had forgotten about this door.  This heavy locked oak door in the basement.   It took some force to unstick the unoiled hinges to get it open, but once he was there Peter could feel the ideas returning.  

He had spent so much of his youth here.  Building, inventing, creating.  Now he worked with other Cavalcadium members, testing their creations instead of making his own.  Since Delilah died he didn't have that spark to create.  Now...

There they were.  The robots, just as he left them.  Empty, dead, never once powered on.  No cores or brains of their own.  No lives.  Just empty shells of metal and oil.  And across the room were two safes.  Inside were samples of blue and green, each having their own respective   casings.  Because you should never mix the two.  Never.

One was the very glue that held the universe together and brought life to inanimate objects.  The other melted humans into mechanical zombies.  

Never mix... never mix the two.  And with that, Peter got an idea.

\-------------

Iris would never forgive him if she ever learned of this.  Peter stared down  at the body of his son, fear and excitement making his heart  race.   Tomorrow would be the funeral.  They were going to put his son, his beloved Bernard, his darling Rabbit, in the ground.  Where they'd never see him again.  Never hear his soft voice, see his loving green eyes, his bouncy red curls.  Peter couldn't bear the thought of never again holding his little boy.  The tears threatened to fall again.  

No.  No not now.  He had work to do.  With the funeral being tomorrow, no one would ever have to see the evidence.  Just close the casket, and no one would ever have to know.  Peter began to unbutton Bernard's suit jacket.  Five years old.  A five year old should never be buried, let alone in a suit.  But it would hide his dirty work in the end.


	2. It Worked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can never tell them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with "Was That A Pun." I do not own Steam Powered Giraffe. Inspired by this image: http://sergeantobliv.tumblr.com/post/31143378246/but-pappy-what-am-i

Iris was blank as a stone.  Peter held her, tightly; as they watched the undertakers lower the tiny coffin into the unfeeling ground.  She didn’t cry.  She didn't speak.  It was almost as though she wasn't even there.  Peter couldn't blame her.  If he didn't have something to drive him, he wouldn't be there either.  He waved off the maids, who were trying to get her back to bed.  He'd handle his wife.  They needed each other just now.  Carefully, ever so carefully, he took Iris by the elbow and guided her away from the new cemetery.  The family graves that would now be by the duck pond.  It was Rabbit's favorite place, after all.

\-------------

It was working.  The blue matter was doing its job.  It was giving life to that which did not have it.  Peter grinned to himself.  It had taken three months.  Three months of soaking the pieces in his blue and green matter samples.  Now that the blue was doing as it should, all he needed was to charge the green, and the robot could be ready tonight.   Tonight.

Peter washed his hands of the blue muck, slipping new gloves on as he reached into the jar that held the green matter extract.  From it, he pulled an eye. A green, small, child's eye; now no longer white, but a sickly glowing green.  Infused perfectly.  With a scalpel Peter slit the back of the eye open, just below the optic nerve.  And slipped a small metal tube with wires running from it inside.  The tube was advanced for what it was.  A camera.  Cameras were something not exactly new, but not very useful.  It took too long to sit before a plate and wait for the box to capture an image.  So, why not use what's already there?  Why not take the images, and project them onto a mechanical optic nerve?  Have something read it on the other end?  If he could manage it with a real eye, surely he could build one from scratch later?

Stitching up the back of the eyeball, Peter grabbed up the glass and metal construct he had made for it.  Inside was a mix of preservation liquid and green matter.  Anything to keep the eye doing what it needed to do.   Carefully, gently, Peter set the eye into the center, where a ring was waiting.  The ring was anchored to the sides of the container.   With a few twists of different wires, the eye was permanently fixed in place.  An act of god would be needed to make it shift, let alone dislodge. 

Peter drew the wires through the hole in the back of the lid, snapping the whole thing closed.  Then he welded it shut, forever keeping the liquid tightly inside.  With a few deft touches, the optic was inserted into the metal skull, wired up just right.  He flipped a switch, and the lab was bathed in bright green light.  There was power running to the green matter infused eye and water now.  Melting the eye to the metal just as Thadeus had melted his slaves into their robots.   Poor Thadeus.  Poor man had died in prison not long after Bernard was born.  It was sad to see an old friend go, and even sadder to see the end of the Becile line with him. 

And then Peter turned it back off.  From the looks of it, no one would ever be able to see into the robot's eye.  Never be able to tell exactly what was in there.  He held up a light, trying to see through the murky green water.  Nothing.  And when it was on the glow was too bright to see.  But better safe than sorry.  Peter set to work attaching the shutters that would close when powered down.  

The eye in place, Peter now turned to the very core of the robot.  Washing his hands once more and again replacing his gloves, he opened the copper chest of the metal man.  The boiler was full, the heating coils he had created were in place.  From it ran a metal tube.  Which ran to nothing yet.  Another tube ran to a splitter, which then went to smaller tubes that turned various pieces within the robot's body.  Cogs and gears had their teeth perfectly aligned, cables were taught and strong.  Bellows that would power the voice box were supple and clean.  

And resting right in the center of the chest was a cage.  Inside the cage was an empty glass ball.  Peter picked up his jar of blue matter, its thick glop wrapped snugly around the key to this operation.  Just time to transfer it over.  

The glass ball twisted open easy enough.  Peter poured, little by little; the sticky blue matter flowed into the ball.  The ball had been built with wires running from it into the spine of the robot, up to the mechanical brain and eyes.  The wire's exposed ends were inside the ball, encased in the glass, and were now coated in the soup.  The jar was empty save for one thing.

Gently, gently, Peter removed the excess blue matter so it wouldn't overflow too much.  Then he pulled his only hope from the jar.

Blue matter could give life to inanimate objects.  It was what held the universe together.  It could be called the soul of all living things, if you wanted to get poetic.  So it wasn't too farfetched an idea that it could bring a soul back.  With the green matter keeping Bernard's eye alive in the robot's head, it would be blue matter keeping his soul.

And it took exactly three months of soaking Bernard's heart in blue matter to get it beating again.

Into the glass ball it went, with the blue matter, to keep it going.  But the ball had to be closed.  Inserting the still open ball into the robot's chest, Peter grabbed up the lid that would seal it all nice and neatly.  He inserted one tube through the lid, then the other.  He hooked up the tubes, one leading from the boiler, one leading to the rest of the chassis, to the already existing valves of the heart.  Why bother with a piston, when one could simply use what's already there?  

Once in place, Peter closed the ball tightly, sealing it with his own mix of glue and metal.  Then he gave the gift of life.

A spark.  That was all that was needed.  A spark to one exposed wire on the glass ball, and the blue matter core began to glow.  It started small, like a candle.  And slowly, slowly, grew brighter.  Brighter.  Until it was too bright to gaze at directly. Lowering his goggles Peter continued to watch the blue matter core react within itself, sending signals through the wires and into the mechanical brain he had built.  The coils kicked on.  The water in the boiler started to heat.  

Steam ran through the tubes.  Into the heart.  Which then pumped the steam through the rest of the automaton's body.  None would ever need to see it.  The ball was glowing so brightly you couldn't see what was inside the core itself.  And who would ever ask?  

Peter set the elaborately designed chest plate into place, a window allowing the core to be seen outwardly without blinding anyone.  Beautiful.   With a great heave Peter sat the copper man upright, and tied the last wire together.  The wire was the only one needed to send the raw power of the blue matter now containing Bernard's soul into the eye containing another aspect of Bernard's soul, and into the circuitry of the brain he had created.  With a snap he covered the wires with the back of the robot’s neck.  And stood back.

The optic flickered to life on the right side of the robot's face.  Steam vented from the four wing-like pipes from its shoulders.  More from the vents along its neck.  The neck moved, the head moved, the arms and legs moved.  A start up check, to make sure everything worked.   Minimal programing firing and sending signals to limbs and gears and cables.

Then everything stopped.  And the one-eyed robot swung his head around, and gazed at his creator.  Peter smiled.  He moved to the right, and the robot's head followed.  He moved to the left, and again the robot moved with him.  

"Do you know who I am?"

The robot didn't answer.  It just kept staring at him, trying to comprehend what was going on.  Peter started to lose hope.  It wasn't answering.   It was watching him, but nothing more.  What if it didn't work?  What if it didn't have its own life the way Peter had wanted?  

Then the copper man took a shuttering breath into its bellows, and a voice rose from low along its neck.

"Maker."    Peter took a step back, sitting heavily in a chair.  Maker?  MAKER?!    He was inches from panic.  No Pappy?  No father?  No "Pappy where am I?"  Had he really lost his little boy for good, even with all this work?  The endless nights, the sleepless weeks.  

"You don't recognize me?"

"No."

"Rabbit.  Rabbit it's Pappy."

"Pappy."  Maybe...

"Yes, that's right!  Pappy!"  

The robot looked away, taking in the room it was in now.  Its movements were jerky, clumsy.  New.  With a hiss   of steam he looked down at himself, lifting metal hands to wiggle copper fingers.  The green glow became brighter, almost as though the jaw-less face was grinning.  Its head snapped back up to Peter.

"Pappy!"

The robot was happy.  But there was no recognition in that eye.  That single eye.  There was no memory of being the loving five year old with bouncy copper hair.  The caring son that wanted nothing more than to hold the fluffy bunny.  

Peter buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.

A hiss, a clank, and the robot was off the table with a jerky uneven walk to Peter.  Like a child taking his first steps.

"P-P-Pappy?"

Peter's head shot up, hope blooming again.  Bernard's stutter!  It hurt so much to hear it again, but it felt grand all the same.  

"Yes.  I'm your Pappy."

"Are you crying?"

"I. Yes I am.  Look at you.  You can talk, you can walk, you-"

He couldn't finish.  For in that moment the robot swept the man into an almost crushing hug.  It was Bernard.  It was so very much Bernard that it hurt all over again. And felt so wonderful to have back.

"You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Pappy."

"You don't know who you are, do you?"

"No."

Peter extracted himself from the long copper limbs, taking the skull-like head between his hands and kissing its forehead.

"Your name is Rabbit.  And you are the most wonderful soul to have ever been created.  Come; let us meet your mother.  I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."

\-------------  
  
When introduced to Iris, Peter neglected to tell her exactly what he had done.

"Darling," Iris didn't move, laying in bed as she had all these months, staring at the wall.  "I have someone I'd like you to meet.  Rabbit, this is Iris, your mother."  

"Ma?"

That got a stir out of her.  She rolled over, sitting up as she saw the giant metal creature kneeling by her bedside.  

"No need to be afraid, Iris.  He won't harm you.  This is Rabbit.  I built him to help around the house, with the baby."

Iris gazed at him, not understanding.

"Rabbit, will you wait outside a moment?"  The robot nodded and stumbled its way outside the room.

"What is that?"

"Iris, love, calm yourself."  Peter grabbed up her hands, sitting by her and holding her tight.  He was so glad she wasn't in a stupor anymore, not with the child coming so close.  "I know how much you miss him.  I miss him too.  But we need to move on with our lives.  We have a child   coming."

She was crying now, clutching his sleeve.  He let her.  She needed it.  She hadn't shed a single tear after learning of Bernard's death.

"I know darling I know.  I wanted to ease our pain.  Bernard loved rabbits.  So he shares the name.  That is all.  We can't replace him, I know this.  I don't want to replace him.  But we have to think of our futures."

"They can never know."

"Hmm?"

"The twins.  They can never know they had an older brother."

"Alright.  We won't tel- twins?"


	3. YOINK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The total damage to the family wasn't all that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with "Was That A Pun." I do not own Steam Powered Giraffe. This will be very sad.  
> Idea came from this image here: http://sergeantobliv.tumblr.com/post/31143378246/but-pappy-what-am-i

Rabbit proved himself useful in the coming months.  Peter was right; he was able to work on building the robot a second eye.  This one was blue.   He remembered Thadeus, and the horrific copper elephant that had hurt so many before Becile was imprisoned.  Fearing the overtaking of the green matter, Peter used the same method as before, sans the human eye, to create a blue matter optic for the robot.  Now equipped with two eyes and two baby humans to care for, Rabbit fell right into the role of being an older brother.

Somewhere, deep in Peter's heart, joy was bursting forth again.  The robot had none of Bernard's memories.  But all his personality.  Yes, his soul, indeed, was there.  Perhaps he had just taken too long to turn the robot on?  Maybe if everything had been ready by the day of the funeral Bernard would have kept his memories as a robot?

Perhaps. But it didn't matter.  Peter has his son back, had two new sons, and a wife who adored the automaton.  

"Why ever did you build him Peter?  He is so much like... like him."

"You do remember why I was building them, do you not?"

"Of course.  I watched you work for hours on _her_ gifts."

"Oh Iris don't be that way.  I was young, foolish, love sick.  She and I would never have lasted.  You know this.  I love you dearly, with all my heart."

"Yes, I know.  I do know Peter."

"Well, um.  When she, when she passed, I had no reason to continue on them.    But then, with him gone, and you ill, I couldn't stand to do nothing.   I miss him so much Iris.  I wanted to remember him, somehow."

"Pappy!"

Rabbit bound into the room, a baby in each arm, frantic maids running behind him.  Rabbit looked as overjoyed as a robot without a bottom jaw could.

"Can I take take take 'em to th' duck pond?!"

"NO!"  Peter and Iris shouted at the same time.  This had become an almost daily occurrence.  The nurse quickly picked the children from the robot, cowering off to the side as the infants began to fuss.  

"You're makin' dem cry!"  Rabbit reached for his human brothers, trying to get them back.  He really did adore the squirming balls of blankets.  The maid slapped his hand away, glaring.

"Erva let Rabbit have them.  He's doing them no harm."  Iris chuckled.   Peter marveled at how quickly she had changed once the robot came into their  lives.  Peter understood.  It was like having Bernard back, without having Bernard.  This of course, was the point.  Peter was secretly proud of this.

The nurse maid grumbled before turning her arms out, allowing the robot access once more.

"YOINK!"    Rabbit exclaimed as he snatched the infants back, both of them calming almost instantly when they were rocked in the spindly arms.  Erva just glared.  This was a common occurrence in their house.  The twins were a fussy pair, constantly unhappy with their food, their bedding, their care taker.  But they seemed to adore Rabbit to a fault.  They were quiet for him, they laughed at his jokes, his songs could put them to sleep with ease.  It was really rather sweet.

"Rabbit, dear.  I know you want to take them to the pond.  But they are too young just now."  Iris neglected to tell him of her fear of the place.  If she could, she'd ban anyone from ever going there again.  But just like the child he was "programmed to be like" Rabbit had a draw to the   place.  He loved to feed the ducks.  

"But Ma, ya'said dey had ta go outside now now and again."

"Yes, but not to the pond.  The back porch, the greenhouse, but not the pond."

"Okay okay.  Can I take 'em?"

"'May I' Rabbit.  To the greenhouse?"

"Uh-huh."

"In words."

"MAY I take dem to th'greenhouse?"

"..."

"Please."

"Yes you may."

"WOO!"

Rabbit turned on his heel, practically running down the hall to his trip outside.  Erva cleared her throat.

"Do you really think this is such a good idea marm?  That thing is so clumsy; it has no idea how to hold a child.  It never listens to a word we say."

"Erva, I'll have to make you stop that.  Rabbit's perfectly capable of taking care of Peter and Peter until I am well."

"Then what am I doing here?"

"My mother insisted that I have a human nurse my child.  Be grateful you have a job." Erva huffed and left with a toss of her nose into the air.

"Iris now, was that called for?"

"Peter she's trying to take my children from me." 

"Oh come now she's not trying to take our boys.  Once you are well you can spend more time with them and not have to worry about Erva.  Now, rest.  I'll have Sonia bring something for you to eat."

"Please check on Rabbit.  Make sure he's not at the duck pond."

"I will.  Rest."

It was actually a good thing that Iris had sent Peter to check on their sons.  Because as soon as he placed the order for soup, he went out the back door, and spotted Rabbit not where he said he would be.  The copper automaton was standing by the rabbit hutch, brothers in his arms.   Peter was running.  The rabbits.  The rabbits and Rabbit and Peter and Peter and no.  No his heart couldn't take it.

"RABBIT!"    The robot turned his head at his name, watching as his creator charged at him.  "Rabbit just what you think you're doing?!"

"Showin' Two an' Three th'rabbits Pappy."

"No!  That was not what you told Iris, and you know you're not allowed by the rabbits."

"But-"

"NO!  You are not allowed by the rabbits!"

"Why?"

"Because you might hurt them!"

Rabbit dropped his gaze, hugging Peter the second and third to his chest tighter.  The robot couldn't understand it.  His Pappy trusted him with his brothers, but not with the rabbits?  He just didn't get it.  Weren't the babies more breakable than the animals?  That's what Erva had said.  But Rabbit nodded, taking two very large steps back from the hutch.  

Peter let out a huge sigh, running a hand through his hair.  He shouldn't have snapped at Rabbit, he knew that.  The robot didn't understand, and really never would. Peter would keep this secret and take it to his grave.  The last person that ever had to know what he had done would be Rabbit.  Iris was a close second.  But Rabbit... Rabbit was a robot.   How would anyone live with knowing what they were created from pieces of a dead child?  And then have to live forever?  Peter was sure that would happen to Rabbit.  Why would a robot die?

But those rabbits meant so much to Bernard.  He just couldn't stand to see them hurt, not by anyone.  

"I'm sorry Rabbit."  Peter gently took his sons into his arms, freeing Rabbit of them.  "I know you're careful with everything you touch.  I'm just... protective, of these creatures.  If you're gentle, you can pet them."

Rabbit looked fit to blow a circuit he was so happy.  Peter made a mental note to work on a faceplate for that skull of his, maybe a jaw too.   With long fingers the metal man unhooked the latch, swinging the door open.   His big hands with sharp needle fingers spoke of strength and pain to whatever they touched.  But when the brown rabbit settled into the spidery hands, it was obvious that Rabbit handled the creature like glass.  

The Lop hunkered down, unphased by the steam that rose from the misshapen thing holding it.  It seemed almost happy as Rabbit stroked between its ears, scratching its nose with affection.  The robot folded his knees, carefully coming to sit under the shade of the wooden structure.   Peter fought with himself not to cry.  Rabbit couldn't remember ever having been human, but his mannerisms, completely unprogrammed, were exactly what Bernard had done while alive.  Peter had done the impossible and brought his son back from the dead.  And the boy didn't even know it.  

So Peter sat beside him, watching as Three reached out a pudgy hand to grab the bunny's ear.  Rabbit chuckled.  

"Are dey soft, Pappy?"

"What?

"D'rabbits."

"Oh!  Yes, they are soft.  How do you know about soft?'

"Ma was talkin' about about about blankets fer Two an' Three, and how they was too rough.  They needed to be soft.  And she talked about rabbits."

"You know, I think one day I'm going to figure out how to allow you to feel things you touch."

"Really?!"

"Yes really.  It seems almost cruel that you can't feel it."

"Pappy?  Why does Ma hate th' pond?"

"It did something unforgivable to us Rabbit."

"What was it?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned about."

"Can I ever ever take Two and Three dere?"

"Maybe one day.  Maybe one day."

Father, son, son, and robot, watched the sun set behind the empty field beside the duck pond.  Peter felt as empty as that patch of land.

\-------------

"Rabbit stop it!  Give it back!"

"Nu-uh!  Y'gotta tell me what happened las' night!"

"Rabbit no.  It's not something you need to know about!"

"Rabbit let Two go, you don't have to know what happened between him and Lucy last night."

"Aww but Th'Spine!  I wanna know!  Don' tell me you you don't wanna know too!"

"It's none of our business."

"Ha!  I win!"

"What?"

"You didn' deny wanting to know."

The Spine had no answer.  Rabbit leaned in triumphantly, venting steam from his cheekvents, grinning.  With long fingers he snatched the book out of Peter Walter the second’s grasp.

“YOINK!” 

“Rabbit give that back!”

"Go on Two, how was was th'date?"

"Rabbit, The Spine, Gold, HatchWorth, Three."  Peter Walter the first stopped the conversation short with a frown and a handful of letters.  Iris was sobbing in the other room.  The brothers looked at each other in confusion.  

\-------------

Five shapes in dirty green stood at the foot of the long drive.  The War to End All Wars.  That’s what they were calling it now.  The Great War.  No one saw what was so great about it.  Rabbit leaned heavily on The Spine, The Jon supporting Three, and all five were dragging canvas bags behind them.  

One good thing came of this, at least.  The gold robot had gained a name.  The Jon.  He had found it his first day.  They had stepped into line, someone had said a name behind him when he had been asked for his, and it stuck.  

Iris was the one that saw them through her window.  She and Peter ran with a handful of house staff, helping their boys back into a house they hadn't seen in over a year.  Iris is kissing everyone on the head, hugging them tightly, and it's obvious that she wishes she could hold   everyone at once.  Peter allowed her to coo over Three like any mother would while he did a visual check on his creations.  

"Rabbit, what happened?"  

"We were hit by shelling just before the end, sir."  Spine explained, shifting his older brother up higher, still thinking in military terms.  It would take months for him to stop calling Peter “Sir.”  "Rabbit was thrown pretty hard into a flooded trench.  We can't get him to power back up.  We think he shorted out sir."  Colonel Peter A Walter the first fell into military form, and ordered Spine to double time it to the workshop.

\-------------

The total damage to the family wasn't all that bad.  HatchWorth had a few scratches that could be buffed out pretty easy, he was mostly cast iron and bronze after all.  The Jon was alright, he needed a new left cheek plate though.  The Spine needed some of his smokestacks unplugged from mud.  Peter the third had twisted his ankle rather badly, but a few days rest and he'd be right as rain again.

Rabbit had to spend a week in the workshop.  Peter had opened him up, and had a prompt breakdown for which he was glad no one was around to see.  Rabbit's bellows had been filled with mud and water.  

"What is it with you?!"  Peter had almost shouted at the powered down robot.  "This sick drowning fetish you have.  Stop it!"

The bellows were emptied, cleaned, and hung in the sun to dry while Peter fixed his photo receptor.  His right one.  

The glass of the green eye had been cracked.  The water had leaked from it.  And Pappy's fail-safe had kicked in, and the shutters that acted like eyelids had welded themselves shut, keeping the precious piece inside.

Carefully, as though handling solid smoke, Peter extracted Bernard's eye, and put it in a green-matter jar in the locked safe.  Glass was no longer an option.  His core would have to be transferred to a stronger material as well.  All of them would have to be replaced.  


	4. Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with "Was That A Pun." I do not own Steam Powered Giraffe. Inspired by this image: http://sergeantobliv.tumblr.com/post/31143378246/but-pappy-what-am-i

Peter the first could feel it coming.  His robots, his sons, were at war again.  Another war.  They had lied, the first one was to end all wars.  And now this one was worse.  But what hurt even further was how Peter could feel that he wouldn't last to see them return home.  

Iris had passed just last year.  Since then, he had been spending more and more time sitting on the bench by the duck pond, under the young tree Rabbit had planted ages ago, talking to the wind.  There was a little fence and gate around the pond and the field now.  Peter had told his daughter-in-law, once, in a stupor created by a fever, about how they had once planned to put a fence around it sooner.   No one understood why he'd want to put a fence around an empty field.   Or why he wanted to bury his wife by a pond she hated.  

Peter sat at the bench now, by the pond, a stone's throw away from the lone gravestone of Iris Tonia Walter.  It wouldn't be alone for long, he knew that now.  He'd be joining her soon.  In his lap was a small leather bound book.  He had said he'd bring his secrets to the grave.   He had lied.  He couldn't go with it.  He'd never rest until everything he had hid from his son, his wife, his family, was written down.  So no one would ever try it again.  

"I've finished it darling."  He whispered to the headstone.  "And now I can sleep.  I hope you're able to forgive me, Iris.  And I hope one day, Bernard can forgive me as well."

Colonel Peter A Walter the first died in his sleep that night.  He had never looked so happy.

\-------------

"Rabbit?"  Michael pulled his arm from Rabbit's chest, grabbing a towel to sop up the spilled oil inside.  "Do you realize your boiler pipes run through your core before the steam goes elsewhere?"

"Shore do Mista Reed!"

"Please call me Michael.  My dad doesn't work on you anymore."

"Right right."

"So, why does it do that? It doesn't do that on Spine or Jon."

"Idunno.  It's how Pappy built me.  He musta had a reason."

"Did you want us to fix it?  It seems highly inefficient.  I'm not all up to date on blue matter, but I'm sure Six could rework it."

"Nah, that's okay.  I've had tons of upgrades, and it's always been that way.  Even when Pappy changed out our core casings, he kept it like dat.  M-m-m-m-maybe he knows sumfin we don't."

"Alright alright."  Michael shut Rabbit's chest, removing his goggles.  God their cores were so bright.  "How about that stuck optic shutter huh?   Let's get that optic out."

"My optics don't come out Michael you know that."

"I never understood that either.  You were built with sensors that could be removed."

"I don't ask, I just just just trust Pappy."

\-------------

Rabbit had been adamant that Peter's room never be changed after his father had died.  And since there were no more maids in the house, no more servants, no more staff, more than enough rooms to sleep an army, no one had bothered to change it.  So it wasn't a surprise that it had taken so long for Rabbit to find the journal.  Deep under the unused mattress, pressed against the wooden slats, was a small leather bound book.  Rabbit had been looking for his hat, and figured he might have left it under the bed.

"Michael?"  

"Hey Rabbit!"  Michael was in the workshop, tinkering with his banjo.  The purple matter that kept the bog's spirit trapped within had been leaking  again. 

"I found this in Pappy's room.  What's it say?"

Flipping it open, Michael scanned the first page, chewing the inside of his lip.

"' _Technical Journal to Rabbit's Inner-workings_.'  Well thanks Peter that would have been useful twenty years ago you know."

"Is dat all it is?"

"That's it Rabbit."  Michael shut it, shelving it along with all the other materials on the robots they had stored away.   "Thanks for finding it!  Next time you do something stupid, I'll know how to fix it."

"Hey, I resemble that remark."

\-------------

It   was a stupid _stupid_ accident.  So stupid.  They should have known better, honestly, than to allow Rabbit of all robots near a freaking horse

The automaton never listened to directions.  Never paid attention.  Sure they were supposed to just watch the horses, help the humans off and on, they couldn't actually ride them.  And sure they were metal.  But there were still rules, and Rabbit still broke them.  He didn't have his hand on the horse's rump as he walked behind.  He didn't walk out of kicking range.  And he didn't watch himself for glitches.   So when he spazzed out behind a horse, spooking it and making it kick, landing  the hit square in the chest, everyone instantly thought a unison "I told you so."

Michael had Rabbit open in the workshop.  The robot was lethargic, seemingly having trouble focusing on his own train of thought.  And he was complaining that something wasn't right.  He'd often cut out in the middle of what he was saying and start to mutter to himself.  You could call his name and he'd be confused.  And there were some days that he didn't seem to recognize anyone around him.  When Rabbit started to ask for his Pappy, Spine suggested to Michael that there might be some worth to ignoring Rabbit's cries of "I'm fine" and fix it.

"There are a couple loose wires around your core, but that wouldn't cause all of this I don't think?"

"Wh-wh-what about that that that book?"

"Oh yeah!  I forgot you found that!"

Michael had a habit of reading things out loud rather than to himself.  He was never exactly quiet anyway, so it only made sense that he'd talk whether people were listening or not.  So he had Rabbit prop open the book while he dug into the 'bot's chest, reading and working at the same time.

"' _The cores were transferred shortly after The Great War to a stronger material than glass.  I have infused spider silk with blue matter, as I have found this material to be extremely strong if spun and woven similar to that of wool or cotton.  The fine fibers allow for a tight water proof weave_.'  Dang your Pappy thought of everything huh?  ' _I  have begun to use a similar material for the optic lenses as well.  After the fright of The First War, I realized I was far too trusting of   glass.  I almost lost my little boy again._ '  

"' _It is now, in my old withering age, that I come to realize that my promise to myself was a foolish one.  I can never hope to keep him nor myself safe by keeping secrets.  I brought him back to keep him alive, not to see him fall apart due to my own carelessness_.'"    By this time Michael had soldered the wires back together and Rabbit was actually starting to feel more like himself once more.  But Michael was interested in what Peter had to say, and Rabbit couldn't bring   himself to not listen to what his Pappy had written.

"' _My dearest Bernard, it was never my wish to cause you harm.  You were my greatest creation, my darling son.  Seeing you dead in my arms was the greatest tragedy I had ever beheld.  Please do not hate me, for I could not allow you to leave me so quickly._ '"

Michael read, and read, and read.  And Rabbit listened and listened and listened.  As they read, his core corrected itself, healing from its sudden jarring and ripping of wires now that they had been repaired.  And Michael had taken the book from Rabbit's numb fingers and continued to read.  And Rabbit had shut his chest and continued to listen.  And finally, _finally_ , Michael reached the end, and felt as though he was going to puke.  

"' _I am sorry, dear Rabbit.  In my old age, I cannot remember where we laid you to rest.  Our desire to never let Peters the second and third know of their brother in our grief had caused us to do horrendous acts.  Removing your stone was perhaps the worst I can think of at this time.  I know I have caused wrongs.  I have wronged you, I have wronged your mother, I have wronged your memory.  I only hope that one day you will be able to forgive me_.'  Your dad, he... Oh my god Rabbit."  Michael's head snapped up as the door opened.  Rabbit had run from the room, pushing The Spine, who had been sent down to see what was taking them so long, out of the way.  

"RABBIT!"  Michael dropped the book, running after him.  Steve at the end of the hall ducked out of the way as Rabbit went flying past.  Spine and Steve started at each other, confused.  

"Shall we find out?"

"Yes I think that's a good idea."

\-------------

Michael ran after Rabbit, chasing him through the winding halls and out the back door.  It was raining.  Michael reminded himself later to laugh at the irony of the fact that it was raining just now.  Someone was always chasing Rabbit because he went out in the rain when he wasn't supposed to. And for a robot that was over a hundred years old, with creaky joints and rusting gears, who was falling apart at the seams, who had loose and missing wires from his core no less than half an hour ago...  Rabbit could really book it when he wanted to.

And down the hills they went, Michael trying his hardest to catch up.  He thought, maybe, he was able to do so.  Turned out, Rabbit was actually coming to a stop right by the duck pond to the right of the bench.    Dropping to his knees the robot clutched his head, letting out a heart-wrenching scream that almost made Michael regret coming  after him.  Almost.  Michael jogged through the low gate, stopping and catching his breath while he watched the robot.

Rabbit shook, his screws rattling as his body shivered from the shock.  He crumpled, forehead resting on the wet grass while sobs filled the air.  Michael sat beside him, touching his shoulder gently.

"HE FORGOT WHERE HE PUT ME?!"  Michael scrambled back, not expecting Rabbit's outburst.  

"How COULD HE?!  I was, I was his Rabbit!  I was _HIS **RABBIT**_!  I was only doing what he taught taught me!"

"Rabbit?"

Wild blue and green eyes flew to Michael, frightening the purple matter master all the more.

"He took from me.  He took my heart from me.  And then _forgot_ where he _put_ me?!"

This... this wasn't Rabbit.  This wasn't the loveable automaton that had helped raise Michael.  This was a creature he had never seen before.  The robot stumbled to its feet, staggering to the huge headstone that belonged to Peter Walter the first.  Just to the side of it, right under some tree roots, he began to dig.  Chunks of earth and grass flew through the air.

"He'd put me here, somewhere.  By th'pond.  I loved it here.  He'd put me here.  How could he forget that?"

"Rabbit stop."

"NO YOU STOP!"  Rabbit rounded on Michael again, oil streaming from his eyes.  "You you you don't understand!"

Michael knelt in front of Rabbit, grasping his wrists firmly to keep him from flailing any further.  The robot fought, faintly, trying without trying to free his hands.  Then a sob bubbled from him, and he leaned against his friend's chest.  Michael let go, and wrapped his arms around him.  And let him cry.  

"I remember now."

"What?"

"I I I I didn't before.  NNnnnNow I do.  He.  I.  It was so cold.  And dark.  And I was so scared.  I called fer 'im, but Pappy never came.     And I couldn't hold my breath anymore, so I- an' then ever'thing was heavy.  An' then I woke up.  An' ever'thing hurt.  Hurt so much.  So much I made myself forget it.  And I.  I forgot I was human."

Rabbit clutched at his head again, pressing himself closer to Michael in an attempt to find the warmth he remembered from Iris when he was a child.   Michael held him tighter, completely lost as to how to help.  This was beyond anything he'd ever thought of.  

"I was five.  _Five_ Michael.  What d-d-d-d-ddid he expect?  Oh god Michael.  What he did.  And then he... oh god."

"Shhhh, shhh, it's okay.  It's okay Rabbit.  It's okay."

"How could he eeeeerase me like that?  How could they?!  Didn't they love me?!"

"Obviously they did.  He tried to bring you back."

"But they forgot where they put me!  They hid me from from from Two and Three!"  

"I think he was trying to protect you, Rabbit.  He didn't want this to happen to you."

Rabbit just sobbed harder at this.  It honestly broke Michael's heart.  His father had ripped his son apart to make a robot, and then forgot where he put his son.  He could have told Rabbit.  _Should_ have told Rabbit.  Finding out in a book fifty to seventy years later?  This wasn't right.

"I want to find it."  Rabbit whispered into Michael's shirt.

"I don't think that's a good idea Rabbit."  Green and blue eyes lifted.

"I want to find it.  I need to know.  I need to know where I am."

"Rabbit."

"Please."

Michael turned to Peter the first's headstone, as though searching the man for answers.  What good would it do?  Finding a skeleton of a little boy that had been stolen away too soon?  Why did Rabbit need it so badly?    But Michael never was able to deny Rabbit.  Had to be one of his charms.  

"Okay.  Okay we'll find it.  Not right now, we'll need some equipment that none of us have.  But we'll find it.  Okay?"

Rabbit nodded, hiding his face in the purple cloth once more.  Man and robot sat in the rain, filled with questions to which they had no answers.

\-------------

Steve was the one that dared to brave the gate.  After he and Spine had started reading the journal, it became clear half way through who Peter was talking about.  Spine plucked the book from Steve's grasp, closing it and shelving it before they could read further.

"It's not our place to know."  His voice was quiet, raw.  Something was triggered deep in the back of his mind and he wasn't quite sure what to do with this new-found information.  Steve just nodded.  Finding out the man that had created your metal friends had cut open his dead five year old and preserved pieces of him in blue and green matter was... 

Well.  The best word for it really was icky.  Insane probably worked, but then the whole house fit into that category and this was just a whole new level of strangeness.  Psycho fit, but then that'd be saying that Rabbit was... 

No, icky.  Icky was perfect.  

Almost too perfect.  Steve cleared his throat after this realization.  

"You think that's why they-"

"Yes."

"Well then."

"Yep."

"Think we should...?"

"Yes."

Steve trotted out the door, Spine hot on his heels.  

"Duck pond."

"How did you-"

"Wi-Fi."    Steve didn't even contest that.  If The Spine knew where the robots of the house were because of Wi-FI, he wasn't going to doubt him.  So to the pond it was.  And sure enough, there was Michael holding a Rabbit.  It took Steve ten minutes to work up the guts to enter the cemetery and approach the pair.  Michael caught sight of him, and shook his head sadly.  Steve joined him anyway.

Rabbit was powered down to sleep mode, curled tightly against Mike's chest.  The rain pelted off his copper head, hat-less for a change.  Steve knelt beside him, checking him over briefly for any damages running might have caused.

"Big shock huh?"

"For me or for him?"

"Both works."

"Both works."

The hiss and squish of heavy feet on mud had both men startled by Spine joining them.  The tall automaton watched them for a moment, as though debating with himself.  Then he bent over, gently tugged Rabbit from Michael's arms, and carried him back inside.  

"Guess that decided that."

"Guess so."  The humans could do nothing more than follow him.

\-------------  
  
Rabbit watched the rain streak down the window, trying to ignore his reflection as he pressed his forehead to the cool glass.  Steam rose from his cheeks, fogging it, blocking his glowing eyes from his view for a moment.  His eyes.  

Letting the shutters close Rabbit tried to fight the tide of memories.  It was as though somewhere in the back of his mind, someone had put a folder file that was password locked.  And the password just happened to be "get your core kicked by a horse knocking it loose enough that   everything inside freaks out and then have your previous life handed to you in a leather journal."  Come to think of it, that was a pretty long password. 

It had opened that folder, and now the virus that was Bernard was catching fire to his systems, inserting himself everywhere.  Memories that Rabbit had created, as a robot, suddenly had a dark overtone of “You acted exactly as I would have."  He was lost.  So very lost.  Was he a robot, doing robot things and working on his own mind and  actions?  Or had he been influenced, quietly, from the shadows, all this time?  Was anything his?  Was he Rabbit?  Or was he Bernard?  Was any of Rabbit over the last one hundred plus years actually _Rabbit_?    How about right now?  Sitting here contemplating what had happened in the past, what was going on now?!  Was all of this him, or _him_?  Rabbit honestly didn't know.

_"Jessy, Jessy stap b-b-biting Lester's ear!"  Bernard chastised the brown rabbit, standing on his tip toes to try and reach the latch.  He had to be quick.  If he didn't make it back inside before Mary found out he was missing he was going to be in so much trouble!  But the lock was too high for him.  Normally it was Ma or Pappy that helped him get the rabbits out of their hutch._

_"Benny make Jessy stap." The black rabbit just watched him, not understanding the words that came from their owner.  Huffing, Bernard jumped to try and unhook the lock.  He missed._

_That's when he heard it.  The crack that was so loud it made the boy choke on his own air.  Covering his ears Bernard ducked around the rabbit hutch to see what had made the noise.  And froze in place._

_Water.  A great wall of water was coming his way.  Rooted to the ground, Bernard could only whimper in fear as it washed over him._

_"PAPPY!"   Bernard screamed when he reached the surface once more, being dragged down the hill by the torrent of water that had come from out of nowhere.  He kicked, splashed, tried to stay afloat.  But he had never learned to swim.  Pappy was supposed to take him next summer to the   beach and teach him.  Was supposed to help him learn how to dive out of a boat and get back in all on his own.  Next summer, when he would be six, when he would be a big boy._

_Now he grabbed onto anything he could reach, but everything he touched was pulled away, or took him down below the water again, or smacked him in the face. It just wasn't working.  And then.  And then they hit the  duck pond, and the undertow of the water, the momentum it had built, dragged him straight to the silt bottom of the pond._

_He held his breath.  Hard.  He couldn't see, it was too dark and the water was moving too fast and there was mud in his eyes and he couldn't see.  But he struggled, trying to get to the top.  He thought it was going somewhere, it felt like he was moving up.  But where exactly WAS up?!  He kept flailing his arms, his legs, thrashing when something grabbed his ankle and pulled him down again._

_And his lungs burned.  He needed air.  Needed it so bad.  When was the last time he had any?  Was he back at the hutch last time?  He had never held his breath so long.  Sometimes, when Ma bathed him, he would duck underwater and see how long he could last before he came back up gasping and splashing and soaking his mother.  This was longer than any bath-time fun.  He was fighting so hard, and it hurt so much.   Finally, finally, he couldn't do it anymore._

_And he gasped for air._

_And was met with water._

_Cold, slimy, thick with storm, water rushed into his mouth, into his body, and grabbed him with a vengeance.  An icy cold fist grabbed his heart and squeezed.  Bernard thrashed again, coughing, sputtering, and drawing more and more water where it didn't belong.  No, this wasn't right.    This wasn't right!  This hurt!  It hurt so much!_

_And then the cold started to fade.  And his limbs became heavy.  Heavy.   So heavy.  It was harder to move them, to try to swim, to fight.  The coughing stopped.  Bernard felt the cold mud press to his back again, but it didn't seem to matter.  Nothing mattered anymore.  The pain   faded, his chest didn't hurt, and his body wasn't cold.  He just sort of..._

_Fell_

_Asleep._

Rabbit jerked out of stasis with a yelp, arms and legs kicking out in an attempt to swim through water that wasn't there.  He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move.  Panic gripped his core, his heart, and wouldn't let go.  Rabbit fought a foe that wasn't real, that only existed in his mind in a past long gone.  But it had felt so real.  So there.  So real.  So there.  

Rabbit fell from the window seat with a thump, landing awkwardly on his back.   And with that jarring, he was able to fill his bellows with blessed air.  Not that he needed it.  Not anymore.  He sucked in air, harder, harder, suddenly wishing he could go back and give himself the ability to grab the child he was and give him his bellows.  

He breathed now, because he hadn't been able to then.  

Rabbit stopped breathing, a sob escaping him at the thought.  He covered his eyes, and right there on the floor, wept.  

\-------------

It hadn't taken much to force the lock on the time aged door that led to Pappy’s long out of use room, especially not for the strength the titanium automaton possessed in his mechanized frame. 

He'd left Rabbit alone to cope as long as he felt comfortable but the copper 'bot hadn't come out for days and The Spine feared his boiler would soon run dry.  He heard the wood splinter under his hand and the door creak as it swung open.

The bed was empty, The Spine's brow furrowed as he stepped into the room his eyes casting a green light as he glanced around.

Rabbit was sitting in the window seat, forehead pressed against the glass, steam vents fogging the glass.

He didn't say anything at first, keeping his heavy steps as quiet as he could.

A titanium alloy hand came to rest gently on the copper shoulder and Rabbit sighed.

"Are you okay Rabbit?" Spine asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Rabbit turned his oil slicked face toward him, pulling his knees to his chest before wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his head in his arms.

"No.” Came his voice, muffled and choked.

The Spine sat on the open space of the window seat, wrapping an arm around Rabbit’s shoulder and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm not sure I can ha-ha-andle this Th’Spine.” He choked weakly.

"I'm sorry, Rabbit, is there anything I can do to - "

"Bernard..." 

"What?"

"My name, it used to be Bernard." Blue and green optics peeked over metal arms to look sadly up at him.

"W..would you rather we call you that now? We could, if you wanted."

Rabbit shook his head

"No, no I like Rabbit better; he called me Rabbit even before... I don't know why I needed to tell you that I just..."

He ran a hand over his head, resting his forehead against the glass again to stare at the reflection cast by his glowing mismatched eyes.

His metal fingers traced the edge of his green optic, then came down to trace the raised edge hiding under his shirt through which his blue matter core could be seen.

He sighed and the glass was covered once again with steam

"I guess N-Now I know why dey never wanted me by th’ duck pond huh?"

Spine wanted to say something, anything, to help but couldn't find the words. The quiet stretched in the room.

"D-Did Michael let you read it?"

"What?"

"Pappy's journal, did Michael let you read it."

"I...yeah, I read it. Only Michael, Steve, and I have seen it"

"So Th' Jon and Hatchy and Sam dunno yet huh?"

"We didn't think it was right without your okay, Steve and I only even know because we didn't realize how important it was when we found it."

Rabbit nodded miserably before shifting in his seat, leaning against The Spine.  The silver arms tightened around him protectively.

"What am I Spine?"

"How do you mean?"

"What am I?  Am I R-R-Rabbit the robot?  Or Bernard the bbbbboy?"

"What do you feel like?'

"Idunno.  I rrrrrememba everythin', from both o' us.  I can' tell if what I know is mine, or is his."

"Well, I'm assuming every memory made after you woke up as a robot would be yours, not his."

"But then what does that make me?"

"That... makes you you?”

"Spine."  Rabbit pushed away from his brother, giving him a hard look.  "Am I Rabbit the me, or Rabbit the him?"

"You're, um."

"Am I a b-b-b-boy given a second chance in a metmetmetal shell?"

"In a way, yes."

"So so so what about th'Rabbit that was 'ere BEFORE I 'memebered who he was?"

"Um."

"You're not helping Spine."

"This isn't exactly something I've done before Rabbit.  This is new for me too."

Rabbit nodded, hugging himself tightly, shifting away from Spine further.  His brother sighed, adjusting his hat while he thought.

"Why can't you be both?"

"Hmm?"

"You have your life as you.  And your life as him.  They can be separate.  But now, you can both experience it together, at the same time."

"So who's talkin' to ya now?  Rabbit, or Bernard?"

"Um.  I.  Um.  Uh."

"Exactly what I'm facin' now."

Spine gave that some thought.  Here Rabbit was, over a hundred years of knowing that he was Rabbit.  Suddenly to have this whole other person that was exactly like him thrust into his head.  Who... who WAS in control?!  If Rabbit didn't know, if Bernard didn't know, how could any of them?

"Who do you feel like?"

Rabbit shrugged with a sigh, pulling his knees to his chest once more and hiding his face.  Spine stroked his back, thinking.  He had wanted to become human.  But the idea of having been human, and then a robot... that never occurred to him.  And it was almost sickening, really.  And made him wonder about himself and the others.  He always wondered on if he had a soul, on being human.  Rabbit had always insisted that they did have souls, that they were just as human as humans were.  How much of that was Rabbit talking, and how much of that was Bernard?  And now that Spine thought on it, how much of that applied to himself?

Clearly Rabbit had a soul.  It just wasn't his own.  It was someone else's in his body.  Did that mean Rabbit had a soul?  Bernard's was there, was there room for Rabbit's?  If not, did _he_ have one?  Did Jon?  HatchWorth?  

"I don't want to find him anymore."

He almost didn't catch Rabbit's voice.  

"What Rabbit?"

"I don't want to find him anymore.  I wanted too, at first.  F-f-f-ffind him, know it was real.  I don't wanna anymore.  I just want... I just want to forget."

"Forget?"

"I rememba drownin'."

Spine froze, his hand almost at Rabbit's head.  He remembered, but... how?!  Peter had taken his heart, his eye, not his brain.  Not his memories.  How could Rabbit remember this?

"He's in here."  Rabbit tapped his head, oil tracking his face again.  "I close m'eyes, and I see it.  Th'wata, an' th'cold, an' th' pain.  I don't WANT IT!"  Spine snapped back, startled by Rabbit's sudden anger.  

"This isn't isn't me!  I didn' do those things!  I don' wanna have these Th'Spine!  It hurts!  I drowneded, an' then he cut inta me, and tore tore me apart, and forgot where he PUT ME!"

Rabbit's hand crashed through the window, shattering the glass and sending steam into the air in his rage.  Rabbit whipped around, grabbing a chair from the desk and throwing it through the window as well, screaming in pain as he it flung out into the storm.  Spine stood against the wall, fear coursing through every fiber of his being.  He had never seen Rabbit like this.  Angry, sure, but never so torn apart that he'd destroy anything.  

As though to illustrate this point, Rabbit rounded on his younger brother, grabbing his lapels and dragging him eye level.

"Do you have have any any idea, ANY idea, what it's like ta watch yerself drown?  Ta know there's nothin' ya can do about it?"

"No."

Rabbit pushed him away, sitting on the carpet and holding his head, the perfect picture of utter misery.

"Let's hope ya neva do."  

Spine looked away, fighting to keep his panic at bay, trying his hardest not to run from the room and never see Rabbit again.  This wasn't Rabbit.  This wasn't the harmless, goofy older automaton that he had first seen when he was first powered on.  This was a monstrosity, a horrendous mix of human and machine.  It was all Spine could do to remind himself that Rabbit had always been there, no matter what he was made out of.  

"I-"  Spine blinked back the oil in his eyes.  When had that gotten there?  "I have an idea."

\-------------

"You want me to what?"

"There's a corrupted file that Rabbit downloaded.  And he can't figure out how to delete it.  We were wondering if, with the koi's permission, you could do it for him?"

The Jon looked from one brother to another.  Something wasn't quite right.  Viruses, files, messed up signals, that was what Michael and Steve and Sam were for.  Why come to him?  

"Have you asked Sam?"

"He's busy."

"Steve?"

"Fixing his bike."

"Michael?"

"He's looking for something."  Yeah, a five year old's body from a century ago.  Not that Jon had to know that.

"This can't wait until later?  When they aren't busy?"

"No."  Rabbit looked angry, sad, hurt.  Something was going on, and no one was telling him anything.  But Rabbit never looked so pained before, not even when he had learned that Pappy had died.  And Jon hated seeing his older brother sad.

"Okay."

Jon undid his shirt, slipping the suspenders off his shoulders.  A few latches later and the void, the hot dog in its bun, the blue matter ball holding it all together, and the koi, were open to the world.  The Jon's eyes unfocused, flickering and dimming as power was routed to where it was needed most.  Rabbit felt a tingling in his head, a strange sort of sifting that he couldn't explain.

And then the sensation was gone.

And Jon stood up straight, eyes bright.  He snapped his chest closed, a frown pulling at his face plates.

"Bernard that's a naughty thing to do and you know it."

"What."  Spine looked from one brother to the other, confused as to what had happened.  Rabbit lowered his gaze, clamping his hands over his ears.

"Bernard that was rude of you!  You had your time.  You know you had your time.  This is Rabbit's time, not yours."

"But it's not fair!"  Rabbit screeched at the brass robot, eyes flashing.  "I was five.  Five!  I didn't get enough t-t-t-time!"

"You had your chance.  Pappy brought you back.  And you were afraid, so you hid."

"It hurt.  I woke up and it hurt!"

"And you gave the body to Rabbit.  It's his life to live, his soul to have.  You can't just delete him now."

"But it's my turn!"

"You had your turn!"

"But... but Pappy wanted me!"

"Pappy is not here."

Rabbit... Bernard… started to cry once more, shaking his head.

"These memories, they aren't mmmmmmine.  I never went t-t-t-to war.  I never danced on a stage.  I never held my brothers.  That's not me."

"And you drowning isn't Rabbit.  But you showed him that.  It's only fair that he shows you his life.”

"But it isn't his life!  It's mine!"  

"You showed him what else?"

"Huh?"

"What else have you shown Rabbit?  How about the time riding horses with Iris?  Or the fair where you met that bunny?"

"He doesn't have to know about those."

"Why?"

"Because then he won't give it back."

"It's not yours to keep away from him.  You've shown him a horror we weren't meant to take.  And he has shown you the best, and the worst, of his life."

"I don't want it."

"But you want to take his life from him."

"Mine was taken from me!"

"So that makes it right?"

Bernard stared at Jon.  The room was tense, the air thick.  Jon slowly, carefully, reached out and took the copper face in his hands and drew his older brother to his shoulder.  Bernard hugged Jon close, shaking.  

"Rabbit didn't show you his life to brag, Bernard.  He wants to share what he has with you.  You missed out on so much.  Now you can have it back.  But you have to understand.  This is Rabbit's body.  This is Rabbit’s life.  Rabbit has his own soul now.  This is Rabbit's time.  You have to share."

"But-"

"No.  You have grown up, Bernard.  You have grown up from the frightened child to a caring robot.  And that's okay.  You were afraid.  So Rabbit lived it for you.  Share with him.  I think you might like each other."

"But it's mine."

"Bernard."

"How can we both be in here?"

"I can make you one."

"You'd do that?"

"Yes."

"But where will I go?"

"You won't go anywhere.  You'll be part of Rabbit, and he'll be part of you.  It'll be as though you were always a robot, and just grew up."

"Will it hurt?"

"No.  It won't hurt."

Bernard sniffed.  Jon squeezed him tight.  The air rippled around them.  And when they let go, it was Rabbit that smiled at them.  

\-------------

Rabbit, Spine, Jon, Steve, and Michael stood around the hole in the ground.  The rain had finally stopped.  Michael had come out to the duck pond with a metal detector and swept the ground for three days.  Then spent an hour digging.  There it was.  A little brown wooden coffin separated by the rest of the family by a giant tree just at its head.

"Should we open it?" Steve asked, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

"No." Rabbit shook his head, kneeling down and touching the wood softly.  "We found me, that's all that matters.  I'm not forgotten anymore."

"Want me to move it?  Closer to everyone else?'

"No."

"How about a marker?"

Rabbit thought on that for a bit, turning the idea over in his head.  

"I had three rabbits once.  Benny, Jessy, an' Lester.  They were my best friends.  When when when they died, I buried them, and planted this tree over them.”

"And?"

"I think, the tree is more than enough ofa marka."

Michael nodded, grabbing up the shovel.  He handed it to Rabbit.

"Want to do the honors?"

"Yes.  Yes, I really do."

"Oh man, has anyone told Peter what’s going on?!"  Steve asked, suddenly remembering that the other half of the family hadn't exactly been let in on this little secret.  

"Ummm I don't think so."

"I'm his g-great grand uncle and neither of us ever kn-knew it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons that never made it into the fic:
> 
> \+ The elephant war never happened. Thadeus built the elephant, which caused problems in the local area. He was arrested, and died before he ever had children.  
> \+ No Becile line, no one to take Rabbit's core. Guy Hottie and Peter the second live long happy lives. There is no Norman.  
> \+ Rabbit would say "YOINK" whenever he took something. Rabbit takes the ball from the toybox "YOINK! Okay Three let's go!"  
> \+ Rabbit also would say "YOINK" to prove a point. "Six how long ya been down here?" "Oh about three days." "Have ya eaten?" "No?" "YOINK!" He'd pick him up and carry him to the kitchen.  
> \+ Rabbit's stutter and horrible grasp on grammar and words dwindled as time went by. He still had some words he had trouble on, but more often than not he just liked to play with accents and how to change words around, rather than not understanding how to say them correctly.  
> \+ Rabbit and Spine stutter when they are upset. Jon loses his whimsy. Rabbit's accent comes back harder when he's sad, and goes away when angry.  
> \+ Rabbit's and Spine's stutters are a side-effect from two places: Rabbit's from Bernard and his green matter, Spine's only from his green matter.  
> \+ Peter thought that the only way to make artificial life was by having both blue and green matter. The Spine's core is blue matter while his eyes are green matter.  
> \+ Peter's theory on AI with needing both blue and green was proven wrong by The Jon completing himself in a blue matter accident, same as canon.  
> \+ Green matter is still illegal.  
> \+ Peter was afraid of someone finding out what he had done to make Rabbit, so he told the robot never to let anyone try to upgrade or change him. He regretted that order, and regretted never giving the chance to tell Rabbit that it was okay to make changes. He died before he could let Rabbit know his wishes.  
> \+ The permission to change Rabbit and upgrade him as people saw fit (so long as they don't remove the eye or core) are written in the back of the journal.


End file.
